Stolen Images
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: Kurt likes to sketch people on the sly, but one of his favorite subjects finally figures him out. Skank!Kurt Dalton AU. Kurt H. Sebastian S.


**A/N: **_Someone left a prompt in my box - paint me. At least, I think it was a prompt. I didn't quite understand it. It's Skank!Kurt and Dalton!Sebastian, with no warnings except a touch of anxiety and some language. Dalton AU_

Nobody catches the subtle movement of Kurt's eyes as he peeks over the edge of his notebook. It gives him a headache, moving his eyes back and forth so quickly, but that's how he captures his subjects without them knowing – with precisely timed darts of his blue eyes. The worn notebook that he uses to sketch in is almost filled, and this particular drawing has actually been done and done-over a hundred times, but he always finds himself adding more to it – a shadow here and there, a different arch to the eyebrows, a more accurate curl to the lips.

He taps the barbell piercing in his tongue against his teeth as he concentrates, not quite happy with the way he's drawn the nose, but he doesn't want to erase it again.

He might as well start the whole drawing over in that case, and he doesn't have a single piece of blank paper left.

Maybe he'll do it when he buys a new notebook after school.

He's just about finished, almost done with the shading beneath the nose, when the subject of his sketch looks up. Kurt hides his eyes, finishing the shading from memory, but when he looks up again, the green-eyed boy he has been sneaking glances at is still staring, his eyebrow raised in Kurt's direction. Kurt makes a mental note that the peak of his eyebrow isn't quite as sharp as he had rendered it, and to make changes later.

"What are you staring at, Hummel?" Sebastian barks, sitting up straight in his seat. From behind the stacks, the librarian hisses at him to be quiet.

"Not a good Goddamned thing, Smythe," Kurt snaps back, shutting his notebook. He's about to shove the book into his messenger bag when it suddenly slips from his fingers. He looks around, trying to find where he dropped, but he hears a sarcastic, "Well, well, well, what have we here?" and knows immediately where it went.

"Hand it over, Smythe," Kurt growls, leaping to his feet and nearly tackling Sebastian to get his notebook back, but Sebastian is about an inch taller than Kurt, even with Kurt wearing his thick-soled Doc Marten boots, and Sebastian easily holds it out of Kurt's reach.

"Nah," Sebastian says. "I see you bent over this thing all the time, but I also catch you looking at me, so I have a suspicion that something in here might have something to do with me."

"You must be one hell of an egotist if you think European History has anything to do with you!" Kurt snarls, making a leap to grab the notebook, landing hard on his heels and holding a fistful of air.

"Yeah, well, I don't think they had coffee shops in 18th century Europe," Sebastian gloats, turning to a random page with a sketch of _The Lima Bean_ and showing it to Kurt.

"How do you know?" Kurt asks. "Were you there?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes at Kurt's lame retort, turning to another page.

"Nice one of hobbit boy," Sebastian comments on a sketch of Blaine, singing with the Warblers gathered around him, including himself, Sebastian notices. "And by the way, my hair isn't quite that high in the front."

"I don't know. Have you taken a good look at it? Or does the fog of hairspray you use obscure your view of the mirror?" Kurt gives up at getting his notebook back, praying Sebastian gets bored with it soon before he finds anything else.

It's at that moment that Sebastian starts flipping through the pages in earnest, his smug smile turning into a bizarre half-smirk/scowl.

"What the fu- these are all of me!" Sebastian says, looking through the sketches in the book, feeling heat rise up his neck as he sees sketch after sketch of himself. "You fucking creeper!"

"Language!" the librarian scolds him again, but Sebastian pays her no mind.

"Don't flatter yourself too much, Neanderthal," Kurt gripes, "you've got a huge head. Massive forehead. It makes you easy to draw."

Kurt makes a final effort to get the book back, reaching out an anxious hand to snatch it, but Sebastian turns his back to Kurt, examining the pictures more carefully.

He finds a sketch of himself on the lacrosse field. Something about it is…alluring, for lack of a better term. Sebastian looks over the details of his uniform – the individual stitches of the patch on his shoulder, the tears in the tape on his lacrosse stick, a cut on his lip with a bit of dried blood at the corner. The shadows made by the wrinkles on his sleeve tell Sebastian exactly what time of day this is. The despondent look on his face as he gazes across the field is not just for dramatic effect. It feels familiar. Sebastian knows this – he remembers this day. It was their first at-home meet against the Winchester Wildcats, right after Sebastian became team captain. They lost that meet, and in an immature way, Sebastian was devastated, his pride phenomenally bruised. Looking at the way Kurt has drawn the features of his face - the distant look in his eyes, the tight line of his mouth, the starting of a bruise beneath his eyes where an opposing team member had checked him – Sebastian can almost feel the disappointment settling inside him again.

Or dredging back up, since the feeling never actually faded away. He kept it, held on to it, uses it as inspiration to insure that his team never loses again.

"Sure," Sebastian jeers, but weakly, "sketch me after the one game we _lost_." Though quietly, Sebastian has to admit that it was a good choice, since of all the games Dalton has played and won – even championship games – this is the one he remembers the most.

The sketch after that is of Sebastian doodling in his Calculus book during class. He's shielding the picture from the eyes of the teacher passing by, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, his brow furrowed in concentration over the image, which – if he remembers correctly – was of Blaine Anderson in a sheer camisole and rumba panties. On his left and right, Jeff and Wes peek over his arm – Wes with a judgmental frown but laughing eyes, and Jeff with his hand clamped over his mouth to keep from chortling out loud, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Sebastian can almost hear Jeff's signature snort that he claims to be a laugh.

The last picture in the book nearly takes Sebastian's breath away. It shouldn't, but it does. It's an original sketch of Kurt and Sebastian together – it's winter, and it's snowing. Sebastian is dressed in the slate blue cable knit sweater he got for Christmas the year prior from his senile grandmother. Even though the sketch is black and white, Sebastian knows exactly what sweater it is from the negative-stitched trim along the shoulders, and the way the cowl collar never curled right because Sebastian idiotically washed it on permanent press instead of delicate like the instructions said. Kurt is wearing his leather jacket – the one with the spikes on the shoulders, the one he always seems to wear when 'formal dress' is required. He's wearing the only pair of black jeans he owns that don't have any rips in them. His hair is styled up and away from his face, and his jewelry is toned down a bit – plain hoops and balls instead of that plasticky spider and skull costume jewelry crap he shoplifts at _Claire's_.

The two of them are standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe, and they're kissing.

Actually, not kissing. It's the second before the kiss – with Sebastian leaning close to Kurt, his eyes focused on Kurt's lips. Kurt is biting his lower lip between his teeth, a half-smile curling the corner of his mouth. This picture looks more developed than the others, as if he spent the most time on it – the shadows and the tiny details (like the star tattoo behind Kurt's ear) are sharper in this picture. The snow in the background gives off the illusion of cold so perfectly.

This whole picture breathes, and inside it, Kurt is holding his breath.

"Kurt," Sebastian says, suddenly touched by the fact that by looking at these pictures, he's done something cruel. He's invaded Kurt's privacy.

And he's amazed at the fact that for some reason he actually cares.

"Kurt," Sebastian repeats when he gets no reply, turning around to talk to the violet-haired boy fuming behind him, "these are amaz-"

Sebastian looks at the seat where Kurt was sitting, but he and his things are gone.


End file.
